Seeing Stars
by FreyaWazHere
Summary: England and France have never seen eye-to-eye, so when England tries to prove the existance of faeries, what kind of hilarity ensues?


England's gloved fists pounded the table between them causing a perfectly good cup of tea to fall to the floor, spilling over the linens in the process, thus creating a damp, pink blush on the table's surface. "Don't tell me I haven't seen them!" Large brows furrowed as he glared at the man across from him.

Simply smiling, the Brits out burst did not even faze the humored Frenchman. After centuries of this, Arthur was very predictable.

"Arthur, dear, I know a fabulous American mental clinic that I'm sure Alfred would be happy to escort you to." The classic grin flashed, serving only as a factor of irritation to the other country.

"You're a git! I'm not mental! Even if I were I would never go to one of Alfred's funny farms." He scowled irritably, and crossed his legs to further emphasize his stubbornness.

Francis sighed, putting a hand to his forehead. The first sign of being crazy was denying it. "Look, Arthur, perhaps its all that gin or imported French wine, but faeries, and unicorns, and mermaids only exist in books."

"Oh all the silly things to say…" An exasperated sigh escaped England at the Frenchman's naivety, but after all it was France. Still he couldn't believe the other's ignorance. "Well then how do you think any of the authors imagined them? They saw them just like I do!" Placing a lot of emphasis on the last sentence, he added a poke to Francis' head with each word.

Swatting the hand away France complained. "Hey the ladies don't like a bruised face so watch it. Really Arthur, I've known you for years and didn't think you could get any weirder."

England snorted. Him weird? Francis was the one off his rocker. "Bruised face? Don't make me laugh don't be a pansy Francis. Besides" He bent to retrieve the fallen cup. "I know how to prove it to you." He lifted up one eyebrow and shot France a sly grin.

Raising his own, but not as bushy, eyebrows, the Frenchman's stare was filled with both delight and mockery. "Splendid! That's jolly good of you ol' chap! So how are you going to prove you aren't tres fou?"

Arthur's grin slid into a frown as France mocked his speech pattern. "You're a friggin' bloody git. Do you want to stop mocking me so I can show you or would you rather get the hell out of my house?"

Smirk dancing on his face France got up from his seat and kneeled in front of England. In an over-dramatic voice he proclaimed. "Oh forgive be, good sir! I meant no offence! Shall a spoken apology suffice or should I grovel at Her Majesties feet?"

If England had been a lesser country he probably would have kicked France in the teeth. Instead he kept his cool knowing that a reaction was just what the other country wanted. "Are you the least bit interested in seeing them?" He was overly determined to make the Frenchman see things his way.

Smiling at Arthur's controlled annoyance, Francis shrugged and stood. "Enlighten me."

"Well standing here isn't going to get us anywhere." The Brit finally manages a smile. A sardonic smile, but a smile nonetheless. He grasped France's wrist, and boldly pushing the door open, he dragged Francis to his courtyard.

Arthur stopped them by a hedgerow, and pointed deep into the tangled briars. "Okay look closely, but not too close. Let your eyes find them. Don't think about it to much." You don't think much at all so that shouldn't be a problem, he thought. Silently the two gazed deep into the bushes, not making a sound.

After a while Francis' broke the silence. "Arthur I just don't see anything."

Looking at him incredulously Arthur exclaimed "What! Not at all you can't see the cute pink ones? There right there, Alfred and Matthew can see them!" England hadn't yet figure that his dear boys were only humoring him. His brows furrowed in exasperation, and not even in hell would he allow Francis to take him for a fool. "Ah..." he stared timidly. "There is one other way I can think of." His glance fell from the others face.

A little confused by the whole situation, and feeling sorry for Arthur, Francis put his had on the Brits shoulder. "I'm sorry. Don't feel to bad that I haven't seen them. Maybe I'm not gifted. Or maybe" The grin resurfaces "you've been smoking so much opium that your head's gone all funny."

"Hey! I don't do that any more I'm clean!" Arthur's face turned beet red and he swiveled on his heels and stomped away. "Stupid, bloody plank… Why are you so dense Francis?" he muttered the fuming words to himself. "I KNOW there is another place, another way that will surely make ANYONE see them but…" He turned back to look at France, shaking his head.

"Du clame, du calme. I don't know what your problem is but if you want me to see them so bad ill try anything." He shrugged and ran his hands through his hair. "Cependant, tu es tres fou."

Shaking his head even more Arthur stuttered "No no no. You don't understand." His face remained a ridiculous scarlet hue. "I want you to see them. I really do." He stressed the last two words. "…But I always see them in my room… after I've fallen asleep… and wake up in the wee hours of the morning so that means…." His sentence trailed off beyond the level of human hearing and he gave France an incredibly crimson stare.

France blinked, the concept finally dawning on him. He chuckled "Good its about time we settled our differences and had make-up sex or something." Francis laughed at his joke. Sex with England? Yah right.

England thought his legs were going to collapse underneath him. All he wanted was for France to see those damn bloody fairies! It's true that he saw them just as he wakes up…and now all he could do is marvel at his own foolishness for inviting that pervert France to his bed. He knew France would say something obscene, but he had no idea that he would cut RIGHT to the idea of sex! "Uh……….that's…. that's not…oh God…" No! He can't loose control of the situation. Not now. He was so damn close to proving Francis wrong. "R-right…. okay. Let's…go with that" His mind raced to find a way to make this mess work itself out, his face growing redder with each second.

"For Queen and Country, ma Cherie!" Francis laughed. "Well I hope you have a big bed... I tend to move a lot." He smiled fondly at the other man. "Well, lead the way!"

Arthur swallowed hard and struggled to grasp at the concept…of sex with France. Francis was a real smooth-talker, but how could he measure up in bed? England seriously considered the matter, to the point of almost frightening himself. The more he thought about it, the more appealing the idea sounded. "Okay Francis. Let's go." He whispered with a newfound smugness. "I'll make you see some fucking fairies…stars…you name it…" He growls through the sneer.

Arriving at England's bedroom France flopped down on the bed. "Ohhhh soft, c'est comfortable!" He looked up at the Brit. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Arthur couldn't help the hungry glint in his eye as Francis fell onto his bed sheets. Though he was slightly peeved at how calm and casual France acted. 'He must do this all the time.... the slut.' Arthur muses to himself. He rolled his eyes, but the grin never vanished.

France looked sideways at England "Seriously, what are you think? Aren't we going to sleep?" Francis watched the other man intently but he was unable to decipher the look in the Brit's eyes.

England frowned and scrunched his eyebrows at the man's 'innocent and unaware' act. Had he missed something? He knew France said something about "make-up sex".... and that Francis is always thirsty for a romp in bed. He shook his head and tried to align his thoughts. Kicking off his shoes, he switched off the light, trying to hide his look of embarrassment and confusion.

Francis removed his own shoes and shirt before burying himself under the covers. "So when do we see these 'fucking faeries' or 'stars'?

Reeling France's quote back in his head, Arthur tried to think straight. Stars.... faeries...what? Oh right, THAT'S what they're doing in bed. A shiver crawled up England's spine and he strained to remember, exactly when was the last time he got laid? Too long ago, he decided. So long ago that he is now thinking of France in terribly vulgar ways. He couldn't believe himself, but he didn't stop thinking.

"Arthur..." Francis moved over, dangerously close. "Are you ok? You've been distracted all night. Don't tell me you're mad at me for saying you still smoked opium." A genuine look of concern flickered in France's eyes.

The other man could feel France's hot breath on his neck, and it was too much to bear. "No...." He gasped. "That's not it. Well, it's nothing." He thought that France would be groping the hell out of him at this point, their bodies' only atoms apart in the shared bed. France's lack of action confused him. God, how he wants to show Francis some bloody shooting starts right about now.

"No it's not 'nothing' you can talk to me, like I said earlier, we've known each other for years you can talk to me." Francis creased his brows, so confused as to why the normally vocal country wouldn't talk to him much less look at him. Was it something he said? Moving back over he folded his hands behind his head, the top of his bare chest exposed.

Sitting up the Brit said "France.... you know what? I can't stand you. Acting sexy all the time. Do you know how hard it is to tell whether you're joking or not? You're such a pervert; I can't make sense of any of it." He shifted closer to the man and stared him deep in the eyes, like a hungry animal. "I, on the other hand, am a much easier person to understand, and for people to figure out what I want. So why don't you read my lips?" He paused; his demeanor grew tenser each moment. "I'm not joking around." His mouth collided into France's, hasty and willing.

"Mmph!" France barely had time to process what the other man said before they started kissing. Who knew that Arthur was such a good kisser? Practicing with Alfred perhaps? He wasn't quite so sure about how he wanted this to proceed, but if this would alleviate his friend's nerves so be it. He moaned a little to tease the Brit.

Arthur let his mind blank out, and left all function to pure bodily instinct. France tasted delicious, he had a deep fruity taste, like that of a finely aged wine and fresh bread. He wanted more. His hands drifted to France's golden locks, and he braided his fingers through every strand he could grasp. With a few languid motions he pulled Francis closer, teasing the man's lips with his tongue. The bed creaked as Arthur pulled himself closer to the other country, his legs drifting towards Francis' crotch.

Francis smiled through the kiss not quite knowing why he was taking the defensive. He could still taste the tea from earlier in Arthur's mouth. Although a little annoyed at the man on top of him pulling his hair, he wrapped his own hands in England's blond mess, pressing their mouths closer than before. He laughed inwardly as he thought, so if this was just horny England, what was England like as a horney drunk? Just the idea of a very horney England was quite enough to make the Frenchman flush. Feeling the rest of his body get hot, Francis pulled away from the kiss, trying to breathe and blushing seriously.

Arthur whimpered as their kiss is broken. Only then did he realize that it was a good idea to breathe once in a while. His glazed stare was fixed on France, dizzily wondering what might happen next. England watched as that man's breath rose and fell; he could tell that the Frenchman was trying very hard to control it. A smirk dominated his lips once again and wandering hands slid towards France's hips.

Groaning at the others touch Francis arches into England, savoring their moment of contact. It had been quite a while since anyone had made him feel this way. "Ungh... Fuck, you crazy bastard hurry up and fuck me." His classic grin resurfaced just to annoy England. "That is if your man enough to take me."

The Englishman's smile darkened to a vile leer as his ears were filled with France's pleas. By the time Francis ground into England's waist, his pace was already off the charts, but for some reason he restrained himself. He quite enjoyed the begging looks coming from the other man. He didn't get to see that look of submission too often, not at all actually. And how he wanted to make this all worth it. "Ha, good that you're seeing things my way…but…. not yet." With a nimble sweeping motion he pined France tight down on the bed, looming over him, the evil intention radiating.

"Dieu..." Why the hell was Arthur teasing him like this? He wondered. This wasn't supposed to work out this way! He was actually a little scared of the looks Arthur was giving him. "Damn it! Stop teasing me." He attempted to buck up and create more friction between their two bodies, but he couldn't move because of the others grasp.

The menacing grin parted from Arthur and he leaned down into France's neck, sucking and nipping at the flesh of his lovers Adams Apple. He enjoyed the control way too much. "If you want to see…and feel magical things, you have to do things my way." His tongue trailed. "My bed, my bloody rules." He gave the skin another teasing nibble.

Biting back a groan Francis managed to say "That's not even fair, and not how we do it in France" The wet mouth on his neck sent vibrations down his whole body right to his growing erection, more moans escaped his lips. "Deiu! Then at least take my pants of!" He collapsed, panting heavily. 'Fuck, Arthur, s'il vous plait!"

England couldn't help but heat up at the whimpers and groans from France. The language of love, indeed. He steadied his shaking hands and traced meaningless patterns on Francis's bare stomach. Arthur tried desperately to keep control and resist tearing through the man at that very second. His thumb creased the waistband of France's trousers and boxers. "These…really are just in the way, aren't they?" He chuckled hotly.

Arthur received a pleading glare for his words, more moans escaped with each movement of the Brit's finger. France was hardly even able to make proper noises, and just dying for England to fuck him, touch him, anything.

Unable to get a different reaction from France, Arthur decided to go further. He violently yanked the garments to France's ankles, taking a good long look at the naked form underneath him. Leaning closer to the Frenchman, he whispered hoarsely. "Hey. Calm down. Don't blow your top. You'll get what you want" The warm breath ghosted over Francis's ear causing several more whimpers to escape Francis' lips.

France shuddered, but was finally happy that his erection was freed from its confines. Leaning up he bit Arthur's neck, happy to have a little control. "Why did you stop? Are you going to finish what you started ma Cherie?"

"You know" the Brit's devious smile returned. "Wouldn't it be funny if I just left you like this?" He wanted to be as bastard-ish as he could. Cold finders slid down France's waist and stroked his erection, feeling the heat pooling to the area. There was no way Arthur was going to leave now, but he really wanted to see France's needy face for another moment.

Francis' whined, desperate for more contact. He didn't give a flying fuck about faeries or unicorns anymore. All he wanted, and all he could think about was the beautiful man on top of him, his friend his enemy and now his lover. "Oh, Arthur, please, please don't tease me...after all" he reached out and stroked England's hovering erection with careful, slow pulls. "You want is just as much as me."

Arthur unintentionally bucked his hips into France's graceful touches. Immediately he stopped himself, trying to regain some of the control that was slipping away. Releasing Francis' cock he used one hand for support while he lurched his other forward effectively pinning France's wrist to the bed, next to his waist. He hardly looked like a man in control, face flushed, perspiration beading on his forehead, although he tried to keep it together. "I'll…. have none of that." Gently, he began to rock his hips, rubbing their cocks together.

Crying out Francis' desperately clung onto his last scrap of sanity, "Ahhhhhhhhh, ooh f-fuck..." His whole body felt so hot and the tensing of his muscles made him want to cum. Not yet, he told himself, need to hold off, but he could barley control himself, as the heat in his cock grew hotter.

"F-fucking French pansy…n-not yet…" Brows furrowed as his eyes clamped shut, the friction became unbearably sensational. The heat was making him dizzy, but also more aware. Like some screwed up kind of high. All of a sudden his mind went blank and he couldn't decide whether he wanted to fuck the man, or if he wanted the man to fuck him. His hands loosen their grasp and slide into France's hair, tugging hard and desperate, sinking into the lush, sweat doused pillows. "You know what…" he panted, "you…you need to do something too damnit."

A little disappointed, France grabbed both of their cocks and stroked them together. "How's this you lazy, fuckin' Brit." he gasped. His body was boiling; even being thrown out into a Russian winter couldn't cool him down. Perhaps he should grab the base of England's cock just to be an ass. No, that wouldn't be fair.

England threw his head back and let out a pleased moan. He moved his body with France's hand, finally making it a joint effort. His nerves go on edge as he reached a climax, grasping the man's hair even tighter. "Ah…oh god…" With a few more tense thrusts he shuddered and spilled himself onto France. His breathing became labored and flushed as he set his mind back to reality

Letting out a guttural cry Francis came himself, adding to the mess on his stomach and sheets. His panting filled the room and blush coved his body with beautiful stains of pink. Glancing up at England he cleaned himself off with the discarded cover "So what next?" he chuckled

The feral grin never left Arthur's face as he got off of Francis. Fishing for something under the bed he returned with two objects. One Francis couldn't see in the partial light, which England placed on the nightstand, and the other object was unmistakably a British flag. Before France could even protest Arthur had him pinned down and made quick work of tying the Frenchman's hands to the bedpost with the United Kingdom jack. He chuckled sinisterly at the irony of it.

Struggling against the bonds Francis shot Arthur a nasty look. "This isn't fair Arthur. I don't appreciate being tied up. Much less with your flag."

"Oh fermez le bouche." Arthur sneered, and leaned down to run his tongue along Francis' jaw "I know you like it." His only reply was an annoyed grunt. Arthur lets his tongue trail from his restricted partner. "Humph. And everyone knows that you're a fag and a little slut, Francis." He mumbled in a good-natured tone, leisurely rising off of France and reaching an arm towards the nightstand. His free hand wandered Francis's chest, gently curling a few hairs around a finger.

"Well" France fired back "I wouldn't tease anyone one like you are doing to me." In a softer tone he whined, "Please Arthur, I know you want to fuck me." He smirked, looking down towards England's half erect cock. "I'm yours for the taking, bebe."

A grin painted Arthur's face as well. "I might want to...." He paused and grasped the object on the table. A policeman's nightstick. Smacking it against his palm boldly he went on, "but I don't want to simply give in to your demands." He knew that Francis would make a huge dramatic fuss about it, so he added a disclaimer just incase. "And I'll try my best not to bruise your lovely lady skin."

"LADY!! This is a complete outrage; I'm quite beginning to think your loony after all!" He recognized the object in England's hand. "I do not want that I'm my ass thank you very much!" The Frenchman found arguing to be his only weapon seeing as he was tied up. "England.... don't you do what I think you're going to do with that... it's just like... Oh god... I swear I'm never getting drunk in Moscow again!" Francis didn't quite know what he was doing or why he kept blabbing.

Arthur's expressive eyebrows rose along with a very pleased grin. A chuckle escaped his lips. "Yeah, yeah, keep talking. It's what your people are good at." With both hands on France's knees, he spread them apart with a quick motion. He tried to hide the hungry look in his eyes, but it was difficult with France's flustered face staring up at him.

The sheets rustled and the flag stretched as France attempted to shuffle away, a little scared and a little turned on by what ever the crazy Brit was going to do next. He voiced his concerns, not really wanting to hear the answer. "Arthur, what are you planning?"

England bit down on his lips to stop his smile from creeping any further. "You really can't guess? C'mon. You're the biggest pervert I know." Arthur didn't think he was insulting the man, just stating universal facts. After slicking his index finger with a thick coat of saliva, he teased the man's entrance without actually penetrating.

That just wasn't fair, thought the very horney Frenchman. He strained to jerk closer so Arthur could sop being a fucking tease and just put it in him, but because of the flag he found he was unable to move. Francis settled for whining pathetically, hoping to get the other to move faster. Each movement of the other's finger slowly drove Francis back to insanity. The hot flashes and the tension in his muscles made Francis feel like he was going to cum before they even got to fuck. "Mon dieu, s'il vous plait, Arthur....!"

"Ha-ha." Arthur was enjoying the show too much for his own good. "You know…I don't want to get my fingers dirty. Who knows what kind of filth is up your ass." Eyeing the nightstick he let out a terrible little laugh. He replaced his finger with the item, but still refused to penetrate.

More pitiful whimpers came from France's direction. What an asshole. He was so flushed that the only thing keeping him sane was his vast amount of need. "Then get a condom or gloves! Seriously what happened to the boy who used to mud wrestle and fight with me?" Francis' smirk looked more of a wince. "I guess Arthur's a neat little boy now who doesn't want to shame his precious queen!" He didn't know why he kept goading the other on, it was just habit.

The lusty grin never turned into a frown, even as Francis hurled insults at him. Arthur knew that each one secretly meant, 'Just fuck me already'. He sighed, "Don't make this worse on yourself." He plunged the nightstick into the man suddenly and totally un-lubed, but not so deep as to seriously hurt him. "Is this what you wanted, my little French poodle?"

Tears formed at the corners of the Frenchman's eyes at the rough entrance, yet a sparkle of relief and happiness at the Brits final compliance shone through. "I'm no bitch! Nor am I a dog begging at your table! I'd prefer not to be called such." Keeping up his fight helped Francis ignore the uncomfortable stick in his ass. He knew that he was just humoring Arthur but that didn't make the insulting banter any less fun.

"Right. You're not begging at my table, you're begging at my bed…" Arthur shifted the stick further into France. "And damnit, all the lube is in the bathroom." He hummed with fake concern. "You're the one who needs it…but…it doesn't look like you're going anywhere." With that he pulled out the weapon and gave Francis a questioning gaze. "Well, what are we going do about that?" Arthur's glance fell to his own erection, and then returned to Francis.

Barley holding a cry back at the roughness exhibited by Arthur, Francis returned to the hurt pout look. "It's not my fault you fuck yourself in the shower while thinking of me. Get off your ass Arthur and get the fuckin' lube before I..." He didn't know how to complete his threat. Perhaps he should stop insulting the Brit.

Cocking one oversized brow, England surveyed France. "Oh Francis. So this is how you are when you're stripped of your suave act." Arthur shifted himself, but didn't have any intent to head to the bathroom. Instead, he crawled over Francis like a prowling wildcat, bringing them eye-to-eye. "Think of a better idea." He whispered almost breathlessly, totally void of his previous sarcastic demeanor.

France bit Arthur's nose sharply. "I'm getting impatient. What's your plan genius?" So about stopping the insults? Nah. Francis didn't care how serious Arthur looked, whether the Brit knew it or not Francis' insults got him to behave just as the Frenchman wanted.

Jerking his head back, Arthur rubbed his nose. "Ack…" He sputtered into his palm. With a swift flick of his wrist, the nightstick lightly whacked Francis on the head. Arthur's lips formed a pout. "Damnit Francis, how about I just put my dick in your mouth?" Saliva made for a decent substitute, after all.

Frowning the other blond replied, "I will bite it off if you dare do that Arthur, I may me tied up but I have not lost my pride or dignity." Francis really didn't want to suck the other off. Bad experiences with both Antonio and Alfred taught him that. No wine for weeks!

Arthur was actually a bit surprised. But hell, if Francis wanted his ass torn apart, then that was his problem. "Whatever you want, princess. That's as close to lube as you're going to get…" He rose and brought himself to the other end of the bed. Arthur gave Francis one last questioning look before he settled between the other's legs.

Startled Francis' immediate response is to kick Arthur away from him, causing the other male to fall off the bed, all the while wincing internally at the memory of the rod. "Fuck no Arthur! You get your pathetic excuse of cock away from me until you find some lube, lotion or whatever; I am not some whore to be fuck like you can find in Bois de Boulongne!" The Frenchman had some of his old wit back. It felt good to fight for control.

Arthur tumbled to the floor, which felt harder and crueler than usual. Good ol' Francis and his nonstop whining…"You know what! Fine!" His patience was also wearing thin, and he stomped into the bathroom. "You're an obnoxious sonuva bitch, you know that?" He growled hotly as he slicked himself with the long-awaited substance

Francis watched contently as Arthur went to fetch the lube. Him Poodle? Right. Arthur was the one who did what he's told. Chuckling Francis imagined the Brit serving him cheese and wine in a maid's outfit.

"Stop being a whiny git about it, or I'll just clean it off!" At this point England vowed to never take Francis to bed again. Too much work, not enough fun. But it would all be worth it in about two seconds. Impatiently, he chucked the small tube to the side of the room and smiled at Francis. His tight grip wrapped around Francis's waist as he edged closer. "No more complaining after this, okay?" He winked smugly. Finally he slammed himself into the Frenchman with a light grunt.

Such a loud and passionate cry escaped from Francis' lips. God fuck. The other mans cock buried inside him made old memories come back; he hadn't fucked a guy since... well a while ago. "Ah fuck Arthur, you fucker, demenager... ahh fuck!" The sanity he had regained earlier was quickly running away.

Arthur didn't register the others swear-stained cries; he only knew that they sound very pleased. He let out a breathy sigh and thrust into the Frenchman again. As if he was trying to find the hot core of the earth…. going deeper…and deeper…Arthur's nails clawed at the other as his pace sped up, his moans drowning out whatever French nonsense the other would be sure to start babbling.

Moans of both pain and pleasure formed at the back of Francis' throat. All the threats, the fact they're supposed to be enemies, it all just slipped away, replaced by waves of pleasure. "S-s'il vo-ous plait-ahh, encore… fuck..." simple phrases were the most he could manage in his current state. Twisting on the bed Francis arched his back trying to give the other a better angle, his own cock quivering at each movement within him.

Shame and embarrassment were of no concern as England let his obscene moans join France's in the air around them. "Ah….Ngg….F-France….fuck you're hot…" His eyes clamped shut as he searched France's warm insides, each thrust becoming more precise than the last. Why did this all feel so right? France's tight ass around him…their sweat melting together. It was a damn shame they could only find unity in bed, and even that was a painful ordeal.

"Ouuuiii..." England's cries and moans were a symphony to Francis' ears, this was perfect, and each beautiful thrust brought a higher crescendo out from the both of them brining them closer and closer to the finale. "Ahh, Dieu, Ar-thu-ahh-r, gonna, ahh, cum!" France couldn't take it any more, he moved his body into a different position, now Arthur pounded that special spot with each thrust, which, in turn elicited more cries of pleasure from the Frenchman below him.

The intense heat danced on every one of Arthur's sensitive nerves, and he knew he couldn't hold out much longer. France's cries spun through his muddy brain. Another drawn out moan, shaky and elated, another thrust…and…."Oh……god…ah-F-Francis!" His rigid clutch on France's waist was released along with his seed, which rushed deep into the Frenchman's body.

Groaning Francis came himself, making a mess of his stomach, again. All he felt was bliss, simply bliss. The beautiful heated passion they shared would be forever ingrained in Francis' mind. "Arthur," he gasped "God I love you."

Arthur tumbled onto the sheets, beside Francis, not bothering to untie his flag. He inhaled the tainted air, smelling the mess they had made….man, did it smell good. He was rather proud of himself. Arthur was about to let his eyes slip shut when something stopped him. A small jingling sound and a familiar flicker sparks in the corner of his eye, and he whipped his head around. "Francis….FRANCIS LOOK DAMNIT!" He shrieked as if the world was on fire, all his energy seemingly restored, and pointed to the corner of the room like a madman. "Don't tell me you don't se that!" He growled fiercely. Fairies, as plain as day, in his bedroom. It was just like he had said!

Francis looked at the corner, the grogginess from his second orgasm fading away. Sure enough there in the pale light, was a small glittering faerie. Turning to Arthur with a bemused expression on his face he said "Arthur darling, I don't know what your seeing? There's nothing there." He internally smirked at the annoyed and confused expression on the others face. Slipping a wrist out of the flag he reached over and stroked Arthur's face before pulling him over and kissing the flustered blond lightly on the forehead. "No arguments. Don't be silly, hush, and let's get some sleep." Smiling, and petting Arthur's hair, Francis silently vowed he would never tell Arthur that he seen a faerie.

Edit: Thank you to the person who caught my inappropriate us of French! I really didn't mean that word but its fixed now! Thank you!!!


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